8. Waking From a Dream
eight
From a peaceful slumber, I was smoothly brought back to consciousness with a soft nudge and a slight shake of the bed. When I lazily opened my eyes, something black and gray came into focus. It was Sophie’s banged up phone, rudely staring at me.
“Hmm.” I rolled over, stretching and whispering, “What are you doing?”
“Sometimes I have difficulty describing intimate scenes in my novel,” she explained. Her naked body twisted and turned, moving around me as she changed angles in a dance between the sheets. “It helps when I film situations from real life.”
I smiled, touching her arm and running my fingers down to her elbow. “You’re gonna look at naked footage of me in your spare time?”
She giggled, smacking away my hand. “Maybe?”
“What would you write?”
“Something pretentious and barely of any intellectual value?”
Pushing myself up, I rested my elbow on the pillows. “Is that what you think of me?”
“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Wright.”
“Unlike you right now, Jones.” I reached over in an attempt to grab her waist, but she eluded me, getting up while still filming. “Need I remind you that I never consented to this?”
“I’m seeing you now with my own eyes. If I show it to someone else, that’s when you have the right to sue.”
“Wow.” I rubbed my eyes, sitting up. “It’s too early for this.”
“It’s not, you lazy bum! It’s nearly ten o’clock.”
“Nice.” I nodded in approval. “I never get to sleep in anymore.”
“Speaking of lazy, my casserole is still downstairs. You should try it and give me serious feedback.”
“How’s that lazy?”
“With Gunnar here, I don’t see you cooking any time soon,” she teased.
If I were being honest, I wanted to snatch that phone from her hand and turn the camera on her instead. Everything about her was liberated—the way she moved, the manner in which she was comfortable in her own skin. Her messy curls. Her puffy bed eyes. “What are you doing for lunch later?” I asked.
“Lunch?” She put away her phone and turned away, bending over to pick up her panties. “I’ll probably be working.”
I watched her pull them up and wished I could pull them back down and reclaim her to bed where I’d spend the rest of my morning feasting on her. “Can’t you go late?”
“I am late.” Without looking at me, she put on her bra.
“Well, what about dinner?”
Grabbing her earrings, she turned to me, her fingers working to put them on. “How about we go with the flow?”
“What flow?”
“Last night was fun, but do we really have to start making plans?”
“Why not? You won’t be here for long.”
“Exactly.” She nodded. “I wasn’t even looking for this. It just happened.”
“And it was fun.”
Putting her hands on her waist, her eyes searched around the room as if to locate something. “I’m starting to understand you, Nathan.” She then swiftly picked up her dress from the floor and straightened back up, looking me dead in the eyes. “You always want more.”
In disbelief of how she was complicating things, I raised my eyebrows. “By all means, do explain.”
She proceeded to put on the dress while her eyes roamed anywhere but near me. “You enjoyed our little camping adventure, so you wanted my number. You invited me here, and we had a great night, so you wanna book another slot.”
“Slot?”
“Don’t you see? I thought you did!” She glanced in the mirror and frowned, unhappy with her hair as her hands started to fiddle with her shiny curls. “I’m not the kind who thinks that things will go from good to better. You, on the other hand—”
“What’s wrong with wanting more?” I leaned forward, uncomfortably aware of what was happening. She was making me chase after her, and that wasn’t a game I enjoyed playing.
She turned to me and with a finalizing gesture, held up her shoes. “Nothing, if the other person is on the same page as you.” She then quickly grabbed the doorknob and without looking back, said, “I’ll see you around, Nathan,” and closed the door behind her.
What just happened?
I stayed in bed for a moment, trying to make sense of the wreckage that was now my thoughts and formulate one comprehensible idea about the reality of the situation. Sophie seemed sweet, straightforward and… genuinely attracted to me. Last night, she couldn’t wait for me to make the first move and now… now she sounded like a completely different person.
In an effort to clear my head, I picked up my phone and read Gunnar’s one-word text. Breakfast?
I wasn’t even remotely hungry.
Getting up, I grabbed the first workout outfit I found and hastily put it on before heading straight to the gym. There, I set the treadmill to the fastest speed I was accustomed to and started running.
I closed my eyes and let my legs take care of the passing time until I lost track of it all. Just as quickly, the thoughts ran through my head, playing back every detail from last night like a new film I was yet to see. Had I done something that put her off? Had I unknowingly forced her to do something she didn’t want to do? Or was she simply commitment-phobic? A lunch invitation wasn’t exactly a marriage proposal.
Where did I go wrong?
When my heart finally hit its max, and my lungs ached for air, I cooled down to a halt and got off the treadmill. I then stepped into the shower and resorted to the hottest water my skin could tolerate, scorching away all feelings of embarrassment or dismissal that might have remained. All that was left now was the feeling of me cleaning my body of last night. Of her.
Failing to pinpoint the culprit, what was there to do?
I went downstairs and saw Gunnar in the kitchen. “Good morning. Sleep well?” he asked with a smile.
“I guess.” My eyes searched his surroundings for something I was yet to name.
“The casserole? It’s here.”
Stepping into the kitchen, I felt disoriented, like someone who had just been hit on the head with a blunt object. I went straight for the coffee machine and grabbed a cup.
“No breakfast?” I heard him ask.
“Not right now, thank you.”
Out on the terrace, I closed my eyes and let the winter sun try its best to warm me up. The ringing of my phone ushered in a call from dad.
“Hey,” I greeted him.
“Morning. Your aunt Bella’s disappointed that you turned down her brunch invitation.”
“I told her I had plans.”
“And how are they going?”
Leaning back, I looked up at the sky. “At least it’s not raining.”
“That bad, huh?”
I sighed. “Exaggeration for the sake of drama. How is it over there?”
“The usual. Your uncle Bert is outdoing himself.” He chuckled. “What’s going on with you?”
“Also the usual. I think I’ll take it easy today.”
“Alright. Sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“I’ll let you know. Thanks, dad.”
“Suit yourself. Have a good one, Nate.”
Hanging up, I launched one application on my phone after the other, losing myself in a rabbit hole of emails, texts, and news articles. Before I knew it, it was one o’clock in the afternoon.
I stepped back inside to see Gunnar and Kenneth working around the apartment. Gunnar looked up and smiled. “You’ve got to be hungry now.”
“I am.” I walked over to the kitchen. “And I’m adamant on getting rid of that ziti.”
“Really? It looks good, you should try it.”
Why would she make me a casserole if she wasn’t ‘looking for more’? “Fine, let’s all share.”
“Happy to.” He shrugged, putting it in the oven.
A while later, Gunnar, Kenneth and I stood around the bar, each with a fork in hand. Our plates were equal portions, and we decided to have fun with it.
“On three?” I lifted up my fork, readying to dig in. “One, two, three.”
We bit at the same time.
While Kenneth’s face took a while to reveal a reaction, Gunnar’s eyebrows slowly rose as he chewed, following with a nod of appreciation. I, on the other hand, had to climb over the dam of resentment and plant my feet on the solid grounds of pure taste and texture to properly evaluate the dish.
“Verdict?” Gunnar asked after the second bite.
“I like it,” Kenneth volunteered for a head start. “It reminds me of the one my mom used to make.”
Gunnar then looked at me, and as much as I wanted to give an unbiased opinion, I wanted to put it off. So I tossed the question back to him, “What do you think?”
“I think she has the skills of a classic housewife.” Gunnar never flattered without need, so I found his critique intriguing. “The pasta is evenly covered, not a single one has dried out, and… not many use provolone cheese in baked ziti. She knows what she’s doing.”
“Well, I’m glad you approve,” I mocked, taking another bite.
He eyed me from under his eyebrows. “You… don’t?”
“Oh, no.” I continued. “It’s pretty good.”
Too bad she thought that turning good into better wasn’t something worth trying.
I spent the rest of the afternoon playing golf with a business associate, and in the evening, Chad and Abel invited themselves over. We gathered in my study with a good bottle of whiskey, while Chad passed around his latest object of interest—cigars. Even though I hated the way they smelled, I decided to step out of my comfort zone and try one.
And like every time Chad was around, the subject of women came up. Without going into detail or any background information, I shared with them the awkward situation from this morning.
Abel chuckled. “You’re just not accustomed to rejection.” He turned to Chad. “Honestly, most of us aren’t.”
“Why do I not see it as that?” I argued. “It didn’t feel like I was being rejected, it was more like…” Gesturing with my hand, I tried to find the word.
“Like she’s got issues?” Chad suggested.
I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “Like she was worried of getting too deep.”
“That’s issues, man,” Chad said. “Are her parents still together?”
“Happily.” I gave him a berating look. “And please, don’t pretend to know what you’re talking about.”
With the glass between his fingers, he pointed at me, then Abel. “My experience surpasses both of yours.”
“Maybe,” Abel said before turning to me with a smile. “Yet you still act like you don’t know the difference between a relationship and a fuck-buddy, so…”
He and I chuckled, while Chad gave us a lazy stare that screamed, ‘you’re lame’. His eyes then suddenly lit up as he raised his hand. “What about that chick, what’s her name?”
“What?” I shook my head, confused.
“Look, the classic saying goes; the best way to get over someone is by getting under someone else,” he stated it like it was science. “What was her name? The one who almost won that case and killed you?”
I chuckled. “Hunter Bennett.”
“Oh, she was hot.” He smacked his thigh with his hand before turning to Abel. “Tall, fit brunette.” Gestured in front of his chest, cupping his hands. “So confident.” Then down to his hips. “And smart. Damn!”
“Yeah.” I chuckled. “She’s engaged to Eric Elordi now, besides… I’m not looking for a replacement. I just wish I could understand.”
“What about Rola?” Chad suggested.
“Will you stop?” I tittered. “And, FYI? Rola was stalking me; I had to block her number.”
Abel lifted a finger and furrowed his eyebrows, parting his lips for a second. “Maybe, and just humor me for a sec—maybe she was… intimidated. These things take a while to sink in and for her, that couldn’t have happened overnight.”
My friend’s theory was a valid one, but I still wished Sophie would’ve handled it better.